


Five Years Time

by topcatnikki



Series: Snowed In [1]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Feels, Fluff, Happy Ending, M/M, Meet-Cute, Snowed In
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-26
Updated: 2017-12-26
Packaged: 2019-02-22 06:20:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,469
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13161075
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/topcatnikki/pseuds/topcatnikki
Summary: Yuuri Katsuki thought he was habitually prepared for any situation, his anxious nature having him prepare for every outcome and pitfall he could imagine, with contingencies that his friends found hilarious (or fascinating in the case of his roommate). Yuuri had not, however, been able to predict just how cold a Detroit winter was, nor how quickly a blizzard could blanket the city.





	Five Years Time

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ingthing](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ingthing/gifts).



> This one goes out to my girl Ing, who is one of the most amazing follow meat sacks I've had the joy of meeting. There aren't enough words for me to say how much I love you in these smol authors notes, but heck I'm gonna give it a shot!
> 
> You're amazing, sweet, and deadass one of the most funny people I know. I love you darling. I hope this is meet-cutesy enough for your fluffy heart.

Yuuri Katsuki thought he was habitually prepared for any situation, his anxious nature having him prepare for every outcome and pitfall he could imagine, with contingencies that his friends found hilarious (or fascinating in the case of his roommate). Yuuri had not, however, been able to predict just how cold a Detroit winter was, nor how quickly a blizzard could blanket the city. 

 

* * *

 

He thought he’d been prepared, he’d googled and researched in preparation, but the speed of the snow and the way it just  _ settles _ has him burrowing into his scarf for warmth. Somewhere between the student apartment building on campus and the nearest convenience store he’d gotten turned around, the snow obscuring his usual landmarks and leaving him completely at a loss for where to go. His cellphone chides him with its low battery notification, just another thing to add to the list of Things That Have Gone Wrong today. 

 

So Yuuri’s first experience of a blizzard in the USA is one which catches him completely off guard and has him running for the nearest open store in a state of minor panic and high annoyance.

 

Yuuri pushes at the rickety glass door of the cafe, setting the bell over the door jangling discordantly, the faded green paint is peeling on the warped wooden frame and the handle is loose from years of use. Under any normal circumstances he’d never come near the place, its careworn appearance and dim lighting would set him running in the opposite direction and heading to the nearest Starbucks for safety. Today isn’t a normal day though, today he just needs somewhere to sit for five minutes until the blizzard pulls back and he can find his bearings.

 

To his surprise the interior of the cafe is cosy and warm, there are sofas and armchairs huddled around tiny coffee tables, the seats covered in throw cushions of every colour and shape. The path to the counter is zig-zagged between the thankfully empty tables, it seems he’s the only customer this afternoon. The door closes on a creak behind him and a voice from the counter calls out “I’ll be with you in one minute! Hold on!” He can’t see who’s speaking, but the voice is heavily accented and cheery.

 

Yuuri picks his way between the tables, trying not to leave too much snow in his wake as the owner of the voice finally appeared from behind his laptop screen on the counter. The guy is tall, definetely taller than Yuuri, with pale blonde hair that runs closer to silver than gold thrown into a messy bun that spills strands into his face. He tucks a stray lock of hair behind his ear as Yuuri approaches, bright smile in place and a worn striped sweater falling from one shoulder. He looks artfully ruffled in a way that Yuuri envies in the students he sees wandering campus, he’d never be able to look so discomposed and pull it off, he’d just look a mess. Yuuri sticks to his jeans and shirts with an alarming need to keep something of ‘himself’ in the wash of everything new around him.

 

The barista is… beautiful. He’s all sharp cheekbones and and pale skin, eyes the colour of seawater and a smile that has Yuuri staring for a second. He’s only seen people this stunning in movies and magazines, but this guy is right here in front of him. 

 

“Hi there! Wow! You look like you got caught in a snowdrift!” The guy scans over him with an amused look. “I’m not sure if I should offer you coffee or a towel!”

 

“Uh, I wasn’t really looking for either. I was hoping for directions-” Yuuri can feel the blush gathering over his cheekbones, but the guy just keeps smiling.

 

“I can give you directions, yes. But I doubt you’re going to want to back out into  _ that _ for a while at least.” He nods to the windows where the blizzard is picking up, the snow coming down so heavily it’s almost impossible to see through. “Better to sit it out for an hour and try again. Must be your first winter in Detroit hm?” Yuuri nods. “Yeah I was caught off-guard by my first year too, and I’m Russian! You think I’d be used to snow!” The guys laughs at himself and waves a hand at Yuuri. “Go grab a seat, I’ll bring you a coffee and you can wait out the storm okay?”

 

“Is… Would tea be okay?” The guy lifts a brow, a bemused smile quirking his lips and Yuuri hates himself for asking. He doesn’t want to tell a complete stranger that adding coffee to his already heightened anxiety might push him into overdrive, so he shrugs and tries to play it off. “Caffeine.”

 

“Oh sure! I have some amazing Apple and Cinnamon tea if you’d like?” 

 

“Okay.” He was hoping for Oolong, but anything warm right now would be amazing. He drops a couple of crumpled bills onto the counter and turns to the deserted room, trying to choose one of the miriad of tables.

 

“By the bookcases. That’s the warmest spot in the whole place.” The guy nods in the direction of the far wall, where a row of bookcases fill the spaces between tables. 

 

Yuuri settles into one of the couches, wedging himself into the surprisingly soft cushions and watching his tea being made up. From this distance he can see the way the sweater catches on the weighty buckle of the baristas belt, clasping the loops of jeans that seem to cling and to fall in the weirdest of places, hanging from one hip and defining a calf as though they’re painted on. Yuuri realises he’s staring about fifteen seconds before the guy gets to the table and pulls his gaze to his hands, mumbling a thanks to the barista as he cheerily informs Yuuri he’ll be back at the counter and to shout if he needs him. 

 

The cafe is quiet and Yuuri tries to distract himself by staring at the rows of books, but his attention is drawn back to the barista, who’s happy smile is nowhere in sight as he frowns down at the laptop screen. As Yuuri watches the guy catches his bottom lip in his teeth and worries it. 

 

It’s cute.

 

Yuuri barely represses the urge to pinch himself. He’s here to wait out the storm, not to pick up a guy he’s just met. Not that he thinks he could pick up  _ this _ guy, he’s clearly older than Yuuri, and out of his league. He’s just going to perservere through the next hour with tea and one of the books from the shelf, then get directions and go back to his tiny room share and a roommate that still can’t get his name right. That settled, Yuuri picks up his tea and fishes out the bag, inhaling the warm scent of cinnamon and considers the books lining the shelves beside him. There’s nothing that’s peaking his interest, but it’s something to keep him from drooling over the barista. 

 

He’s considering the merits of picking up Vonnegut when the lights flicker uncertainly for a second. Yuuri’s gaze darts to the barista, who’s frowning up at the light fixtures before the lights give up entirely and they’re left in darkness but for the glow of the laptop screen at the counter.

 

“Crap.” The barista is lit by the ghostly glow of the laptop, squinting in Yuuri’s direction. “Uh, just stay there for a second, I think we have some candles in the back-” He pull out his cellphone and fiddles with the screen, pulling up the flashlight and hurrying through a door marked ‘Staff Only’. The guy emerges a few moments later with armfuls of candles, clearly struggling to carry them all. Yuuri is out of his seat in a second, trying to make his way through the maze of tables to lend a hand. He gets to the counter and relieves the barista of his burden, their hands brushing and fumbling over the candles in the murky darkness afforded by the laptop screen. “Oh, thanks! Hold on, I’ll grab the lighter.” He rummages through a draw in the counter and pulls the thing out of a jumble of elastic bands and pens. Lighting the first few candles hurriedly. “That’s better.” 

 

They stare at each other for a few seconds in the candlelight, unsure and worried, before they burst into giggles. It might be the expression of surprised disbelief on the baristas face, or the ridiculousness of the situation, but Yuuri’s laughing hard enough that tears gather at the corners of his eyes. The barista is worse off, his laugh croaking and pitching weirdly in its hysteria. 

 

“Oh my God, can you believe this?” Yuuri chokes over the words, but the guy is bent double and gripping the counter with one hand.

 

“This is ridiculous!” He agrees, wiping at his face. He takes a deep breath and grins at Yuuri. “So it looks like we might be stuck here for a while…” The barista quirks a brow in question.

 

“Yuuri.” He holds out a hand and the barista takes it, gripping it with warm fingers. 

 

“Victor- or Vitya. I prefer Vitya, Victor is a bit…” He shrugs and drops Yuuri’s hand. “Anyway. We’re not going anywhere for awhile by the looks of it, might as well get comfy. Come on-”

 

Vitya waves him behind the counter, opening the ‘Staff Only’ door again and leading Yuuri into the storeroom behind. “Here, grab these.” He pulls a couple of blankets out of a box on the shelves running the length of the room. “We used to hold midnight snack nights for the students, but they died off when Starbucks moved into the campus last year.”

 

“Midnight snacks?” Yuuri’s utterly confused by the concept, Vitya just smiles at him. 

 

“Yeah, it was mainly for the guys who had weird sleep schedules and finals, they used to hole up all night and grab a blanket and a coffee. It was kinda awesome, like a communal breakdown.” He laughs at the thought, grabbing a few more candles from a box marked ‘Valentines’ “It’s a shame it died though. It was nice to have the company.”

 

They shuffle back out into the cafe, Vitya making a beeline for the table Yuuri had been sat at. He dumps the candles on the table and pulls a blanket from Yuuri’s arms, setting it on the far corner of the couch Yuuri had been sat on. He darts away to collect an already lit candle and sets it to the waiting wicks on the coffee table. Yuuri watches him from the corner of the sofa where he’s settled under one of the blankets.

 

Yuuri feels a tiny thrill of nerves as Vitya takes a seat at the other end of the couch, kicking off his shoes and tucking his feet under him before settling the blanket over his lap. “So, Yuuri. What do you do?”

 

The question, instead of making him dive into the wonders of his Art degree, makes him laugh. It just seems so innocuous, Vitya with his holey sweater and hair falling from his bun, sat primly at the other end of the couch and asking him blind date questions with his hands clasped in his lap. “Sorry, sorry! Uh. I just didn’t expect you to ask!”

 

“You didn’t?” Vitya looks stumped, his brows coming together in consternation. “What did you expect me to ask you?”

 

“Honestly, I have no clue? I just… ignore me.” 

 

“No! Now you have to tell me!”

 

“I don’t know. It’s kinda sounded like a question you’d ask a blind date.” He curses himself for saying it out loud, but Vitya laughs delightedly.

 

“Oh wow, you’re right!” Vitya doesn’t seem put off by Yuuri’s forwardness, if anything he’s suddenly looking far more interested. “Okay so if not pleasant small talk, what would you like to talk about, Yuuri?”

 

“Oh, um. I don’t-” He shouldn’t have said anything, but Vitya is watching him with an assessing look.

 

“Come on. I’m intrigued.” He leans towards Yuuri, waiting.

 

“Well, how about you tell me about something you’re passionate about?” He mumbles the question, but Vitya’s expression lights up.

 

“Something I’m passionate about?” He muses, one long finger taps at his lips for a moment before he turns to Yuuri. “Who’s to say I’m not passionate about the thing I’m studying?”

 

“Well you can be, of course, but usually singular focus burns the passion away.” Yuuri shrugs, knowing that his own studies have sometimes wrung him out and left him less than enamoured.

 

Vitya raises a brow in question. “Psych major?” 

 

“Not even close.” The faux annoyance on Vitya’s features pulls a laugh from him. “And anyway we’re talking about you, not me. Tell me about something you love.”

 

Vitya does. He tells Yuuri a story about growing up in St. Petersburg and walking to school each morning past a shelter for homeless dogs, how he used to beg his Mother to let him take one of the poor puppies home. He speak of years of begging and pleading, wishing and waiting, of losing all hope. He tells Yuuri about leaving Russia and studying - he side-tracks a little into his love of Art and how he’s so so close to completing his degree - until finally arriving at his finding a bedraggled and lost Poodle on his way back to his apartment one rainy night in June. 

 

Vitya lights up under the candlelight as he talks about his poodle Makkachin, how he’d bundled her into his coat and carried her to his place, washing and feeding her before calling every vet in a fifteen mile radius trying to find her owner. No one had come forward, even when he’d spent days making up flyers and papering neighbourhoods between classes. So Makkachin had become Vitya’s, or the other way around. Vitya is laughing about how propietal she is with him, checking out every stranger who comes to the door before allowing them to see him. 

 

Vitys gestures wildly when he’s excited, Yuuri notices. He laughs happily over his pets antics and he has a blush across the bridge of his nose when Yuuri tells him that she’s beautiful, after being provided with several pictures to look at. He smiles at the pictures fondly before locking his phone and looking up at Yuuri. “I’m so sorry, you probably think I’m an idiot talking about my dog like this-” There’s an edge of self-deprecation to his words and Yuuri frowns at it. It’s the first sign Vitya has shown of any kind of vulnerability, that downplaying of his affection, and Yuuri doesn’t want it to end. 

 

“No, not even a little bit stupid. I’d rather hear you talk about how much you love your dog for the rest of the night, that fill the time with small talk.” Yuuri assures him. “And for the record I love dogs. I have a poodle called Vicchan back home in Japan. He’s my best friend!”

 

“Thay make the best friends don’t they?” Vitya brightens again, especially when Yuuri (who’s phone is now dangerously low on battery) shows him a selfie of himself and Vicchan earlier that year. Then they’re right back into it again, talking about the wonders of poodle friendship and using Vitya’s phone to find pictures of cute dogs on the internet. 

 

The snow is still coming down heavily outside the windows, but Yuuri isn’t paying the weather any mind at this point. Vitya and he had migrated to the centre of the couch, having needed proximity to ‘truly appreciate the greatness of all dogs’ as Vitya had put it when Yuuri had hesitated to move closer. Now they’re just sat side by side in their blankets, knees knocking when they shuffle in their seats and watching the candles burn lower. 

 

Somewhere on their journey into the discussion of their mutual love of dogs, they had fastened upon Vitya’s mother’s refusal to allow him to adopt a puppy. It had bled into many different parts of Vitya’s life, that refusal, that unwillingness to let him try things. It was how he ended up in Detroit, applying for any and all art scholarships in the hope to find a modicum of freedom away from a stifling influence.

 

“I suppose I sound selfish, speaking of my own mother like this.” He falters, they’re so close that Yuuri can see the uncertainty in every line of Vitya’s face. Yuuri doesn’t want to speak. Doesn’t want to break the fragile moment that has Vitya hiding behind the strands falling into his eyes. “I’ve never told anyone that. I- People don’t like to hear it, that you dislike your own Mother.” His gaze lands on Yuuri’s face for a millisecond before it darts away again, Yuuri can almost feel him pulling away. This amazing, strong person who had never received support, so dared to go and find it for himself no matter how hard. Yuuri doesn’t know what comes over him, but he goes with it. When he slides his palm into Vitya’s it’s warm, and Vitya offers a shaky smile in return.

 

“Not selfish.” He says it firmly and quietly. Vitya must hear him because he nods and they fall to silence, watching the candles, their fingers still intertwined.

 

Yuuri talks then. Vitya doesn’t seem inclined to revealing anything more about himself, so Yuuri returns the favour. He tells Vitya about how much he misses Vicchan, about how scared he is that he’s out here alone. He tells Vitya about the silly little Americanisms that have tripped him up over the course of the four months he’s been living here. He talks and talks, pulling small huffed laughs and fond smiles from Vitya as he relays embarrassing tales of his childhood. Vitya never drops his hand, he rubs his thumb over the edges of Yuuri’s knuckles and smiles at every one of Yuuri’s stories.

  
  


Yuuri wakes with his head pillowed on Vitya’s shoulder, overheating with the layers of blankets and his hair sticking to one side of his face. It takes him a moment to remember where he was, and once he blearily identifies the relative stranger he’s plastered up against, he panics. 

 

Somehow, he makes it out of the cafe without waking Vitya, but with no real idea where the hell he is. It takes him ten minutes of wandering to find another person out on the street in the foot and a half of snow, luckily they’re local. Even luckier, he’s only two blocks away from home. He thanks the lady profusely, probably scaring her half out of her wits with the way he speeds off to the safety of his dorm.

 

* * *

 

It takes Yuuri a month to build up the nerve to go back to the coffee shop.

 

Vitya isn’t there, hasn’t been there for weeks or so the manager claims. Yuuri apologises for the disturbance dazedly and goes back to his dorm.

 

* * *

 

It takes Yuuri five years to find Vitya again. 

 

When he does, he doesn’t recognise him, he doesn’t remember where he’d seen him before. Yuuri had buried that night so deep in his subconscious he barely thought of it anymore. He’d used it as an anecdote at a work function once, but felt weirdly disloyal to Vitya for doing so. So he’d kept it for himself, one weird off-chance meeting that had given his so many beautiful memories.

 

When he does find Vitya again, he’s not Vitya with the stretched out sweater and the messy bun. He’s  _ Victor _ with a sharp suit and flashing smile that makes Yuuri’s heart thump in a way it hasn’t for years. They don’t recognise each other when they make jokes about fated lovers. They don’t recognise each other when they flirt with each other in quick quips. They don’t recognise each other when they organise a first date.

 

It’s only when Yuuri reclaims his glasses, having foregone them for the sake of aesthetic, and manages to mess up Phichit’s best work at making his hair something less than it’s usual mess that Victor -  _ Vitya _ \- recognises him.

 

His heart feels like it’s attempting to break out of his chest, when Victor looks at him like he’s the only person in the room. When they’re so wrapped up in confirming it really is  _ them, _ that they forget about the people around. When Vitya looks almost as though he wants to kiss him, to kiss Yuuri right there without a care in the world that they’re meant to be seeing off his boss and Vitya’s business partner. 

 

Yuuri is always prepared, always has a contingency plan for when things might go wrong. 

 

He’s never had a contingency for when everything went  _ right _ .


End file.
